Only I Didn't Get the Script

Nathan's POV

I pulled my cap lower over my eyes as usual and set a dozen bottles of beer on the table. The next second, Claire Finley's icy fingers closed around my wrist.

"Nathan?"

The private room fell dead silent. Every pair of eyes locked onto me.

I lowered my cap further, but someone snatched my cap off before I could react. Just like that, my face was exposed for all to see.

"It's really you, Nathan. What are you doing working here?" Claire asked, her eyes so fervent that they made my cheeks burn.

I could still see her face from three years ago, frozen in my mind as she thrashed desperately in the river. By the time I broke free of the debt collectors and jumped in after her, she had already stopped breathing.

I genuinely thought she was dead. Every month, I scraped together 50 dollars to visit her grave with cakes and flowers. Yet here she was, alive and well, standing right before my eyes.

I felt nothing.

I set the drinks down, but Dad grabbed me and yanked me toward him. "You haven't been home in years, and this is where you've been working all this time? Couldn't you have at least called?"

Even now, I still remembered calling Dad for help when someone had me pinned to the ground, beating me up. On the other end of the line, I heard people singing "Happy Birthday" to Victor Gray, my half-brother.

That day had been my birthday, too. Yet for the last three years, nobody bothered to look for me.

I said nothing. I bowed respectfully like the waiter I was and held out my hand. "Ma'am, that'll be 30 dollars for the beer. Cash or card?"

Claire froze, staring at me like I was a stranger.

After all, three years ago, Victor and I had been cut from the same cloth. We both wore custom-tailored designer suits and never went a day worrying about money.

She gripped my wrist and frowned. "What happened to you over these past three years, Nathan? Why would you degrade yourself like this?"

I didn't understand what she meant by "degrading myself". All I knew was that I needed to earn money for my medical treatment, save enough for the trip home, and visit her grave every month with gifts.

The good news was—I didn't need to do that anymore. Now I could spend all that money on the best medicine for myself instead.

Claire studied my face, her grip gradually loosening. "You knew about Victor and me, didn't you? We kept it from you because we didn't want to hurt you. I'd actually planned to come clean with you sometime this year."

Dad chimed in. "They were in love. They had no choice but to elope. You're too obsessive, and we were afraid you'd do something irreversible."

Claire clung to Victor's hand. They looked every bit like a couple who had been happily in love for years. Everyone else stared at me like I was some kind of freak.

Then, without warning, a stream of hot blood trickled from my nose.

"Nate, your nose is bleeding!" Victor exclaimed.